Needed Consequences
by the little spanko
Summary: What if Sylar really wanted to be a Petrelli, to have a family, and was faking being Nathan to have that? What would they do? How would they reign him in?...control and reteach him? Warning: non-sex spanking of an adult.


This story is written by thelilspanko and spankingfemmefatale. Thelilspanko will be playing Sylar and spankingfemmefatale will be playing Peter, the rest we'll share as is fitting.

**Needed Consequences **

'How did it come to this?!' He screamed to himself, rage taking over as he jettisoned himself over rooftops, wanting to abandon the city, wanting away from so many pathetically unimportant lives so that he could think. He didn't bother taking his usual care to conceal himself from onlookers, to be secretive. No. He made sure to cause vicious havoc here and there at the whim of his anger. What did it matter?

His mind flashed back to the Petrelli mansion, to broken glass and sparks in the air. The look of heartbroken shock on his mother's ....no, on _Angela's _face... when he revealed in an unholy terror that he knew who he truly was. Claire's tears. Briefly his daughter – but not now. 'Not _ever_, actually.' None of it was real, no matter how much he secretly wanted it to be. 'There is no goodness in this world,' Sylar thought bitterly, wanting to destroy the world that instant, but instead deciding to wage a long and bloody war against it for the wrongs it committed against him.

He soon suspected the reality of the situation. It had started with a disconnect to memories. Unnatural. A clockwork mind always unravels the unnatural into its true form. The collection of abilities confirmed it, but he didn't want to believe. He didn't want to give up his life as Nathan. This gift. Couldn't. The love he felt coming off of Angela, Claire and Peter for him – _**him**_ - was just too good. So, he mimicked. No more did he speak of his confusions to his mother, he didn't want her to suspect. But she did. That was his undoing.

Her eyes, those dark as soot eyes that so recently showered him with love now coldly studied him with abhorrence from afar. He often found her staring at him from around corners. That was what finally set him off. They had gathered for an impromptu family lunch, minus the as-of-late ever working Peter. Winding and resetting a large gilded clock on a side table, he noticed the conversation ceased. He looked up to see Angela and Noah frozen as they stared, Claire looking at everyone in confusion. Then it hit him: it was all a charade. 'A charade,' Sylar thought as he telekinetically threw a bus into a building close to the edge of the city, smirking as the burst of flames soothed his bruised ego somewhat. The sensation was fleeting, in an instant the angst and resentment returned. There was no love for him. There was no caring. His situation was a cage, a means to an end. Angela got to keep a remnant of her son, they kept a foot in politics and he himself was neutralized. 'How perfect for them.' This time a car flipped on its roof. The honking horn made him smile darkly.

The scene played through his head again: "You think I'm your little pet?! That I don't know what's going on?!" He screamed, throwing Noah's already drawn gun away and then pointing at a large vase by Angela that then exploded, cutting her as shards of porcelain flew through the air. "I know! I know, and I can't be caged. I always come back!" Catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror, he realized he was still Nathan. Grabbing Angela by the throat, Sylar smiled coldly and said, "Say goodbye to your Nathan, it's the last you'll ever see of him." He had meant to kill her right then in the form of Nathan, smiling at the sadisticness of it, and had just started to squeeze her throat with both hands when Claire screamed. The one who'd called him 'Dad,' the one who'd hugged him and looked up at him with bright, caring eyes. He hesitated for a moment, and looked at her when she yelled, "Who are you?" Throwing Angela down through a table and looming over Claire he said, "You know who I am. I'm the one who killed your real Daddy." Angry that she recoiled from him, he got in her face, "Want me to kill the other one?" He asked as he telekinetically threw Noah against a wall. "...how about grandma, too? They lied to us, Claire – they lied to both of us." Claire began crying, shaking her head, refusing to speak to him. He huffed, looking back at Angela as he stood straight. She had a look in her eye as though she had made peace with death, a calm resolve that gave her eyes a certain kindness as she looked at him. ...he couldn't do it. Screaming in rage, he destroyed everything in the room, except for life. Then he ran. He didn't want them to see the emotion.

Sylar leapt from the last building and into a vast concrete drainageway with embankments on either side. In the distance was the sound of a train, but other than that there was only the sound of wind tunneling through. His rage spent, Sylar walked to a large concrete formation in the middle of the drainageway and perched himself on the high structure, leaning on it with legs crossed at the ankle. Feeling secure in the abandoned area, he allowed himself time to brood over the events of the day while he looked at his interlaced fingers resting on his thigh.

Peter hadn't taken the news well. The brutal truth of what really happened to Nathan struck him silent for several minutes. He turned a cold glare on Angela and merely took the coordinates Noah had given him from the planted watch Angela gave Sylar months prior to this night. The watch had been rigged by Noah with a GPS device to be able to locate Sylar when and if he reared his alter ego's ugly head. They planned to follow as well, but without the gift of flight knew Peter was their best bet to neutralize any havoc Sylar was likely wreaking.

Peter didn't say another word to the duo as he flew swiftly away, and as he did so, he grieved for the loss of Nathan, his mind clouded in confusion on what to think about Sylar.

How long had Sylar known that his mother had been duping them all? He had hated Sylar... he 'should' hate Sylar, but now, he felt sort of sorry for him since he had obviously yearned so much for a family to keep up the charade when he had had several opportunities to escape or kill them all if he had really wanted to. He could have played mind games with any of them, but he hadn't.

It had been weeks. Peter knew this from the subtle changes in demeanor all too obvious now and the way 'Nathan' had been studying his every movement in an almost curious and loving fashion. He had even seemed forlorn at times and eager to be close with Peter. Peter had assumed that 'Nathan' was just trying to mend the rift that had grown between them throughout their lives and had welcomed the brotherly comradeship that had been developing between them.

Those feelings were torn within him as the anger shifted from Sylar to his mother. Sylar had been contained in the shell of Nathan, and Peter couldn't blame him for believing and wanting to believe he was and could continue to lead a somewhat normal life as Nathan. Peter honestly had not suspected anything; he mentally kicked himself feeling quite dense considering he could have read Sylar's mind and saw that he wasn't truly Nathan had he not been so oblivious.

Perhaps he would have noticed if he had really just been working late as was believed by the rest of the Petrelli's; Peter had instead been covertly honing the full spectrum of his newly regained abilities. He had been to visit Matt a few weeks prior, and whatever power baby Matt held had reversed the damage that had been done and invoked an almost supercharged version of Peter's true power. He wondered if he had absorbed baby Matt's ability to shut down or repower another's abilities. He would know soon enough he supposed as he caught a glimpse of Sylar up ahead as he neared the waterfront.

Sylar stood looking out over dark waters with a seemingly heavy weight dragging his shoulders into a slouch. Peter landed behind one of the fishing wharfs about a hundred feet away and tuned his thoughts to Sylar to find out what he was contemplating.

Lost in his brooding and in the encroaching guilt over the day's events, Sylar jolted in shock that he was looking down at his own hands and jean-clad legs, that he had shifted back to his own form at some point during his tirade. That realization scared him; he'd completely lost control, even of his own abilities. It disgusted him. His anger returned, focused inward as he began another tirade aimed at himself, 'I don't know how I came to this. Pathetic. ...Out of control! I need to be caged...killed; there's no accountability, no way of making up for all I've done. Angela was right, I _am_ a child throwing tantrums,' he thought viciously. Continuing in near mock tones, 'Weak, flawed, violent...the one chance I have at a loving family – the one chance - and I throw it away. Like it mattered if it was totally real, that was still me coming through. _That_ was real. I felt love! I had a brother, a daughter...a mother who was proud of me.' He balled his fists as his thoughts became close to a whine, 'What good do these powers do me? I don't get what I really want, others certainly don't. Now I feel more alone than before.' Sylar sulked further, 'Unimportant. Insignificant. I need consequences to keep me on the straight and narrow, like a child with the threat of a spanking looming over their head.. For the first time, I don't have a plan. I don't know what to do.' The emotion overtook him as he repeated the last bit aloud, "I don't know what to do." Scowling at the ground, his mind traveled to putting himself down, to another attempt at suicide as a way to make amends to those he'd come to care about, as he self hugged.

Peter listened to Sylar's thoughts in both awe and forming conviction. Sylar wasn't the rabid dog he once was. There was guilt pouring off of him in waves; there stood a man in Peter's eyes that wanted to change and be more than he was. After contemplating what to do momentarily, Peter decided maybe Sylar's thoughts had said it best. `A child throwing a tantrum and in need of a spanking,' it wasn't what Peter would have went with first, but he believed Sylar's mind likely knew best what he really needed.

Stepping out of the shadows, Peter moved towards Sylar with a purpose, "Sylar! I know this wasn't your fault getting turned into Nathan. I also can see you are not the same person I fought months ago. You are troubled by your actions; you feel guilty. You should, but I feel all hope for you is not lost."

Sylar nearly jumped when Peter came bounding out towards him, but instead merely raised his head slightly to look at Peter from under his brows. 'He must be holding Nathan's power,' Sylar thought sadly as he softly smiled at the memories, 'that's why I didn't hear him coming.' Realizing that he did in fact look guilty, and not liking that he didn't even have that under control – or that Peter just told him he should feel guilty, Sylar raised his shoulders and head up into a defiant and menacing pose, lifted a hand in warning and scowled at Peter. Inwardly, he laughed at himself at this move as he knew deep down he had no real intention to do Peter any harm at all. 'Like I could hurt him, I couldn't even hurt him when Arthur told me to kill him. And now? I bet he'd never guess that I love him like a brother... would you Peter? Oh Peter. Incorruptible, compassionate, heroic Peter. If only you hadn't lost your powers, I'd trust you to be my keeper, to keep me in my place, hold me accountable. Maybe I should tell you where I moved the spot and you can end me now. Not that you would. Too perfect. Too good.' Sylar looked down at his feet, scuffing a toe on the concrete as he huffed, close to tears, eyebrows knit together in agitation with himself and life in general. The sound of heels echoed out, and Sylar turned to see Noah and Angela approaching, eyes flashing in satisfaction. 'But them? _They_ **are** corruptible.' The smile returned.

"Well, you found me... Now what?" Sylar asked Peter, a hint of feigned sarcastic bravado in his voice as he looked from Peter to the others.

Peter listened to Sylar's inner struggle feeling his resolve build as he approached responding, "Now what? Well, I think that's going to be up to you."

'_Is it now?_ ...maybe I can provoke him,' Sylar thought, but instead laughed and said "What are you gonna do, kill me? You don't know how."

Looking at Noah with an evil grin and pointing at the back of his head, Sylar gloated, "I moved the spot. Think you could find it?" He laughed again at the sneer Noah gave him, seeing the man unconsciously touch his gun with the full desire of burying a bullet into Sylar's hidden sweet spot. Sylar thought, 'This all can end. It would give them peace. If I taunt Peter about Nathan....', but looking at Peter's face was too much, Sylar blinked those thoughts away, 'I can't do that. Not to him. ....now, _**Noah**_...'

"Stop it Sylar. We don't need to play this game," Peter stated in a no nonsense tone as he leveled a glare Sylar's way to solidify his seriousness.

"So, Noah, how's the marriage? Or...divorce?" Sylar said, completely ignoring Peter, as he fixed Noah with the most evil smile, his hands up in a mock questioning gesture.

Shaking his head with no small amount of irritation, Peter had had enough, "Have it your way. I planned on addressing your issues with you in private, but if you insist on acting out in front of everyone…," Peter snaked his hand up and out raising Sylar telekinetically off the ground before continuing, "…maybe you're telling me you also need to be held accountable in front of them all as well."

Peter's words and demeanor took him off guard. Sylar's face fell, eyes shot wide, and he began flailing as he rose into the air. The realization that Peter had regained his original ability, and apparently also was retaining those he'd collected before Arthur's filicide of his gift, hit instantly. "How?!" Enraged by the fact that Peter had obviously listened into his thoughts and that Peter had just seemingly threatened him, Sylar lifted his hand and pushed back telekinetically in warning. "You won't win this fight, Peter," Sylar growled, "you never do."

Feeling Sylar push back with his own telekinesis, Peter willed his own powers harder to easily spin Sylar around to face the pier before placing his body like an unwilling marionette over the divider. Sylar was now prone, ass high in the air, as Peter strode to his left side keeping Sylar pinned in place as he spoke harshly in his ear, "I can feel your guilt Sylar. I won't lie to you and tell you that I haven't been listening to your thoughts; you've shown me that you are salvageable. You've also shown me what it is you truly need to get you on the road to recovery."

Sylar couldn't believe it. His powers were no longer any match for Peter's, and it scared the hell out of him. "NO! Peter!" Sylar yelled looking back at Peter as he was bent over the divider, eyebrows raised in fear. 'What is he – why is he bending me over?! He wouldn't....' he shook those thoughts away. 'How did he get his powers back?...how did they come back so strong?!' In a gravely voice Sylar pleaded, "Peter, the spot is in my right knee artery. Just do it, it'll be a favor to everyone. It'll be best." Sylar stopped struggling in hopes that Peter would comply, and instead shivered in embarrassment as he clenched his eyes closed.

Peter did not respond to Sylar's death wish with words but with action as he began undoing Sylar's belt to snatch it from its place around Sylar's waist. Peter's other hand went to Sylar's waistband and began to tug the now loosened jeans down to Sylar's knees.

"Don't do this, Peter, this isn't what I need...you can't!" Sylar said in a rush, his voice rising slightly as he twisted to look up at Peter. 'Not in front of them,' he thought before turning to look at Noah and Angela. His anger spiked again and he renewed his efforts to push through Peter's hold on him after seeing the amused look on Noah's face. Angela, however, was giving him a creepy, warm look and merely nodded. Pissed that he couldn't move off of the pier, Sylar turned back to Peter and barked out, "I don't want to have to hurt you, Peter! Now, right. my. jeans. and. let. me. go. **Now**!"

"Sometimes what you least want is what you need most," Peter didn't wait for a response as he let the belt sing through the air and come down with a heavy THWAP!

"Ah! ...Peter, you _really_ shouldn't have done that," Sylar ground out, turning his finger so that a nearby light post uprooted itself and flew like a missile at Peter's head. Sylar knew Peter would likely see it and stop it before he was hit, he just needed a distraction to make his escape.

Peter telekinetically froze the light pole in mid air gently settling it back in the ground where it had been uprooted; his eyes never left Sylar and neither did his mental hold on the man. Peter huffed, mildly irritated by the display, "A tantrum? And you _just_ said you didn't need this? I didn't want to have to do this to you, but I think it will be for everyone's good including your own…" At these words, Peter thought of baby Matt and could mentally feel Sylar's powers drain from him like water through fingertips.

Sylar looked up at Peter with wide, unbelieving eyes when he found he couldn't move to make his escape and surprised at Peter's control with the light post. The look he got from Peter unnerved him as his mind churned to find another escape route until Peter spoke. Those words embarrassed and stung him, and as Sylar felt his powers drain away he panicked. "Peter, NOOOO," he screamed in rage and fear. 'What am I without my powers? I'm nothing!,' he thought in terror. 'I'll do anything, just give them back.' "GIVE THEM BACK! PETER!!"

Peter only slowly shook his head no, "You'll get your powers back when I deem you are responsible enough to contain them!" The belt swung like lightening then to land in a deafening slap across Sylar's exposed flesh, "You see, I've done a lot of thinking Sylar, you've done a lot of bad things, but I don't think you are a bad person. Misguided? Yes; but evil? No. You're going to learn I'm not going to abandon you. But, you act out like a toddler to get attention, and well, I'm here to let you know you've gotten mine." Peter's words ceased then, and the belt took its turn to speak with a steady mantra of harsh swats.

"You have NO RIGHT – you CAN'T _CAGE __**ME**_," Sylar screamed, still fighting Peter's hold on him as the belt connected. It hurt much more without his powers. "OW! You're SICK, you know that Peter? SICK...this is Not NORMAL," he yelled before Peter began explaining, and he listened attentively, hope and warmth growing in his heart with every word, guilt and disgust at his misdeeds returning, until … "I do NOT act like a Toddler!" Just as he began working himself up for another fit, Peter let the belt fly fast in a seemingly endless volley. Sylar cried out at every connection, glaring over his shoulder at Peter, instantly deciding all bets were off and, using the pain to fuel his anger, determined to somehow come out on top at the end of this.

Peter decided that Sylar would need quite a long spanking in order to get his head right and face himself as well as a hope to change, and so, he continued to spank in a steady rhythm while Sylar squawked out his indignation. Inwardly Peter listened closely to the enraged man's thoughts seeing through the glare to the guilt that lay beneath the surface. Peter thought as he spanked, `You think you can fool me Sylar, but we both know you will buckle eventually. I'm not giving up on you, and once you realize that, you will listen to reason.'

Though extremely vocal in voicing any and all pain, Sylar actually had a rather high pain threshold, and so his armor of rage kept him safe for a surprisingly long time. It wasn't until minutes had passed that he actually began to panic as he realized Peter would soon pass his tolerance levels. He knew his cries were becoming more high pitched, and that he'd have to find ways to keep from giving in. Trying to maintain what he considered his upper hand, he looked to his right to catch a glimpse of Noah. As suspected, Noah's smirk returned at the change in pitch of Sylar's yelling. Their eyes met, and Noah's smirk became a full blown smile, bringing up a fresh sense of rage and indignation in Sylar. It was just what he needed to keep from resorting to pleading.

Listening to Sylar's thoughts, Peter remarked while the belt continued its descent, "You can mask your guilt and fears with hate Sylar, but it's not going to change the outcome I intend to get here. Noah, even my mom are not a motivating factor behind this, and I actually would prefer that they hadn't been an audience for your shame, but maybe that is also what you need. A little humility can go a long way I've learned."

Sylar turned his dark eyes back to Peter, eyeing him suspiciously through errant strands of hair while listening in between his cries of pain. Laughing he asked, "Oh yea? And how did you learn that?"

Peter let the belt connect harder to show Sylar he was not amused by the snide remark as he answered, "I've been brought low enough to see the error of my ways when I've done wrong, and like you, there have been times others have had to guide me into seeing myself in a new light against what I wanted to believe."

Sylar let out a strangled, "Aaaaaah," surprised at the added strength behind the belt. Grunting and trying to catch his breath from the strong swat, he listened to Peter's words with curiosity and flippancy. "What? You mean to tell me that St Peter the Pure Hearted has done wrong? Do tell," Sylar responded with sarcasm dripping from every word. He grinned, pleased with himself.

Peter sighed, continuing with a steady mantra of slaps, unwilling to play this game Sylar was hoping to bate him in, "This isn't about me, Sylar. I'm not the one running half crazed across New York City throwing cars around like a child throws their toys, so let's try to focus on you and how we can help you help yourself. I can't help you get past your own arrogance. You have to break down your own wall. You will eventually, but until I can get through to you, this is not going to end."

Sylar's only response was a deep growl and another glare before turning his head forward to disassociate, falling silent in his rage. As the slaps kept coming and with nothing to distract him, he broke out in a cold sweat, jerking and again crying out at each connection, his mind turning to what had brought him to this point and what Peter had been saying. Suddenly the pain felt much worse, and as the guilt again bubbled up, he wanted nothing more than to get away from the situation. "Stop...OW...l-let me go, Peter. Just let me go."

"Let you go? Give me one good reason why I should Sylar, and don't get smart with your answer as I promise you sarcasm won't help you here," Peter stated sternly as he continued to let the belt tear even lines down Sylar's bottom. Peter had hit every strip of flesh from the top of his ass to the most sensitive under curves, and by this point the belt was making its third trip down the same lines harder than the first two.

"AAHH!! Because I get it! OW! You're in control," Sylar said in a rush. "You have the power here! AHA!!" Looking over his shoulder he tried the last card he had, "You can stop – AHH-OOW – I'll do what you say!"

Peter sighed shaking his head and continuing to rain down hearty slap after hearty slap, "Me being in control here is merely a byproduct of your inability to control yourself Sylar. I can't stop until I know you truly get that."

"PETER, STOP HITTING ME!!!" Sylar screamed in frustration, shaking his entire body. 'I can't take anymore, please stop,' he inwardly whined.

The belt did not stop as Peter replied, "You can, and you will. Do you know why Sylar? Because if I do stop; you won't respect me. You need to know that someone cares enough to take you in hand, to not give up on you, and guess what? I'm just that someone."

Sylar stopped fighting at the word 'cares,' feeling his eyes burn. "Yea, and why – OW- why would you care about me?" That was a key trigger for him and he knew it, as he tried to protect himself by pushing down the hopefulness with reminders of where this road always led: betrayal. The fact that he couldn't stop the tears from forming brought on a greater sense of self loathing, and he ducked his head in disgust. He felt weak as the continued course of the belt brought the tears spilling down his cheeks. He hated feeling weak.

"Why would I care? You've taken on the visage of my brother for months Sylar, and though I didn't know it was you, I could tell there was something amiss. You wanted to be a part of a family, my family, and you were making an honest effort to change, sacrificing your own identity to get it. That tells me that you are capable of more than your impulses have shown." Peter had slowed the mantra of swats as he spoke, punctuating his last statement with an extra hard slap.

"AAOOWWW," Sylar cried out. Slouching forward even more, he simply shook his head, wanting to deny that he was falling apart and that he wanted to believe what Peter was telling him. The trick to his success had always been rampaging on, using sheer ferocity to pummel away feelings, people and situations that could bring up his wrecked emotions. The fact that Peter was denying him an escape was infuriating, but instead of screaming, more tears fell as his breathing began to hitch.

Peter nodded at the progress, continuing to spank with a timed beat akin to a heart rate. Angela and Noah continued to watch on in silence. The smile that had worked its way onto Noah's face had begun to fade at the realization that what Peter was doing was actually having more of an effect on Sylar other than sheer humiliation. There was something more here than pain, and he planned to remember this lesson well.

Angela felt the need to speak as she was no longer satisfied with voyeuristically watching as she moved up onto Sylar's opposite side where Peter continued to wail down harsh blows. She took in the misery on his face a long moment before stating, "Peter is not the only one who sees more in you Gabriel. I've seen many monsters in my time, and you were what I considered one of the worst, but then you have opened my eyes to something new these past few months. I see the scared little boy within, the need to be loved, and a want for a family. You have become my son through proxy through this ordeal. I'm telling you now, we have all made mistakes here. I'm willing to forgive you, if you are willing to forgive us. What do you say?"

__._,

"How do I trust you? After what you did..." Sylar said without accusation or malice, his voice cracking. "...I want........how can I? OOWW! There's no hope here, can't you see that? Too much has happened. You need to put me down! OW! I can't trust. I can't make amends. I'm broken, I can't be fixed. OOOWWW, PETER! _Please_ stop hitting me," Sylar pleaded in a sob. That one sob quickly led to another, and he bit his lip hard to try and stop a third, whimpering instead.

Peter did not stop, but increased the speed and tempo of the spanking as he responded, "You can be fixed Sylar; every choice you make from here on is an active step in the right or wrong direction. I plan to be here for you to help you take the right path, and when you start to take the wrong path, I will have the strength to correct you and set you back on the right path."

Angela nodded her approval adding, "Peter will not be the only one helping your change; I plan to rectify my own mistreatment of you, and if you are willing to continue staying at the mansion, we can work to mend past our relationship with a new found trust."

"Ok, yes! Just - Prove It! Stop! No more. No More! No MORE!!! PLEASE-AAHH-OWWW!! NOOO OO-OOWW!!!" Sylar couldn't help but sob and kick, completely forgetting that Noah was watching. In a small part of his brain, he felt immense joy at what Peter, and especially Angela, had just said. But this part of his brain was like a small island fully surrounded by the intense pain the rest of his brain was screaming out in, and he knew that – if this didn't stop soon – that island would be swallowed up and all that he would be able to process would be the pain.

Letting Sylar squall out his misery, Peter continued knowing in order to truly get through to Sylar, he would have to push the envelope and pass his pain threshold. After another twenty swats, Peter stilled the motion of the belt and asked, "I know you want me to stop Sylar, but can you first tell me why you needed me to do this in the first place?"

Still kicking, Sylar continued to yell incoherent pleas for a few moments, eyes scrunched shut, unaware at first that Peter had stopped. He'd heard the question, though, and as his legs stilled his mind tried desperately to recall the correct response as he rested his forehead in the crook of his left arm, fingers twirling deeply in his hair as he again became aware of his surroundings and shielded his face from Noah with his right arm after wiping his face.

His eyes popped open as he recalled what Peter had said earlier, and in a rush he answered "My inability to control myself!" as he peaked up at Peter with a hopeful left eye. Only after the words had left his mouth did he really think them over, pulling a slight face that he had even uttered them and then wincing in fear at Peter's mind reading ability as his left eye found Peter once again. Sylar would never have used the word 'inability' to describe himself at all – and even now it threatened to bring up his anger. Yet, deep down he couldn't deny that he deserved punishment, and this was much kinder than what he'd ask for or would have ever expected for all that he'd done. 'Leave it to St. Peter,' he mused in an attempt to keep his eyes from welling up again.

Peter nodded, satisfied with Sylar's answer, "Good, I'm proud to see that you can learn and recognize why you needed this. Now I'm going to give you twenty more while you think on that fact. Once finished, I'm going to fly you back to mom's house where we can talk about your future." Not leaving room for debate, Peter let the belt fly to sting a slow dance across swollen globes, purposely pausing between each stroke to let the full impact be felt.

Sylar could only frantically shake his head no with desperate eyes before the belt connected, causing him to wail pitifully. The long pause in the spanking made the continuation of it seem unbearably worse. As Peter continued, waiting a long moment between each harsh slap, Sylar's wails became more infantile and closer to screams until finally he was reduced to a hysterical, shuddering mess, sobbing unabashedly.

Eighteen, nineteen, and twenty! Peter brought the last swat down the sharpest to lay across the most sensitive underside of Sylar's buttocks. He wanted to be sure the last one was most memorable, "Alright Sylar," Peter spoke calmly as he pulled up Sylar's pants for him and eased away the telekinesis to let Sylar down gently before continuing again, "We are done here; are you ready to go back to mom's house or do you need a minute to collect yourself?"

Cradling his face in his arms and resting it on the divider, Sylar took a few moments to try and quiet his sobs before simply nodding. 'God dammit, Peter, that hurt.' Straightening up, he pawed at his face and nodded again, looking at Peter warily. "We can go," he said in between gulps of air, eyebrows knit and chin still quivering. Wiping more tears from his eyes, he self hugged and gave Peter a serious, imploring look: "What about my powers?"

Peter smirked as he walked over to Sylar, thinking he looked very much like a well spanked brat, "Let's take it one step at a time okay? We will discuss getting your powers back at a later date. Now put your arm over my shoulder, and I'll fly us back to ma's… that is unless you want me to throw you over my shoulder?"

'Discuss? Pff, that's a big fat _no_ for now,' Sylar thought to himself, lip unconsciously protruding. Refusing to validate the stinging question with anything other than a glare, he huffed, unfolded his arms, flung his left over Peter's shoulder and leaned into him. "Can we just go now?" he asked miserably, irritated that tears still welled in his eyes.

Peter huffed as he murmured, "Don't push your luck Sylar, I might just feel like you haven't quite had enough of an attitude adjustment." Peter bolted the two up into the air before Sylar had a chance to respond shouting down to Noah and his mother, "I'm taking him home. Give us a little time to talk."

Angela had nodded while Noah only frowned at their departure not sure whether he was happy or not with the current circumstances. He did however have to admit Peter's spanking had subdued Sylar in a manner he most approved of!

Sylar looked down at Peter warily, surprised by the threat and not wanting any more of an 'attitude adjustment' at all. Ever. It had been terrible. Sighing, he watched as the city passed under him. Flying was nice, but instead of taking much enjoyment in it, his thoughts moved again over the events of the day. The guilt was still there, but he was surprised to find that there wasn't any resentment towards what Peter had done. Rather, he felt hope and – although he wasn't ready to admit it – a sense of relief that there was finally someone more powerful than him.


End file.
